


Misunderstandings

by Linorien



Series: 007 Fest 2017 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Q is a badass, This was meant to be a one shot but then it grew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: It started with a bank robbery. It ended with a kidnapping and a motorcycle rescue in the moonlight. Maybe now people will stop telling Q he is not competent in the field.





	1. Follow the Money

**Author's Note:**

> Opal deserves so much credit for helping me with the middle chapter. Writing emotion is still a struggle for me and it would not be as halfway-decent as it is now without her.

It was not the usual group that was currently seated in M’s office. Some of them were expected. M. It was his office after all. Q. There to learn the details of the mission in order to know how to best prepare whichever agent was sent. Tanner. The one who would decide which agent would be sent.

And then Amanda. Head of accounting.

“Amanda, can you please relay what you told me?” M requested.

“Of course, sir.” She turned to face Q and Tanner more directly. “As you may or may not be aware, there are more than a few banks which we use to pay our agents. These banks have a history of being secure and a couple of the reserves are local branches that are not suspected of holding contracts with government branches. We use those for undercover agents. Recently, one of these, Myrddisle Bank, was robbed. It appears that someone knew our money was being kept there.”

“How do we know that?” Q asked. “I’m not an expert, but I wouldn’t think the money is kept physically separate. Most of the systems are digital.”

“That’s true. Yet the amount removed totalled the exact amount we had invested. There was also a message left behind.” She lifted her tablet to show them an image of a large six spray-painted on the remaining stacks of bills in the vault.

“Do we know who did this?” Tanner asked. “Any groups expressing disquiet with the government lately? Other than the usual?”

“Nothing that has come across my desk,” M replied.

“Nor on mine,” Q added. “You say this was used to pay undercover agents; if you give me names, I can check into each of their missions and see if there are any clues to be found there.”

M nodded. “Tanner, I would also recommend sending an agent to assist with the local investigation. Just to make sure we are in the information loop.”

“I’ve got a few I can think of to send already.”

“Good. Amanda and Q, send anything you find to Tanner and then when an agent is assigned, proceed as normal. If there is not anything else, then you are dismissed.”

***

At 1500 the next day, Bond reported to Q branch. He hadn’t been in the field for two weeks and the damp weather was starting to get to him. “What have you got for me, Q?”

The Quartermaster looked up and smiled with thin lips. “Not a fun mission, unfortunately.”

“My missions are never meant to be fun,” he quipped back, lifting a small camera from a nearby workbench.

“This one almost certainly won’t be.” Q snatched the device out of his hand. “I need you to be ready to extract Samir. We don’t know for sure if his identity has been compromised, but it was agreed that it would be good to have someone standing by.”

“Okay, what do I need to know?”

Q motioned for the agent to have a seat. He explained that Samir was working as a professor of Farsi and Ancient History in the Middle East at a large university. He was keeping watch on some local radicals whose children attended the school. Their intelligence suggested that Samir wasn’t directly targeted, but the undercover agents being paid through Myrddisle Bank were all being watched and preparations were being made for extradition. “I know you have been getting antsy, so I am sending you out on an earlier assignment than expected.”

“Thank you. So where am I headed? What toys do I get?”

The Quartermaster sighed. “They’re not toys,” he muttered. “You are going to Greece.”

***

Agent McLeod, newly inducted agent of MI6, strode confidently to the head of the investigative team at Myrddisle Bank and flashed a fake badge. “Agent Rush from MI5,” she introduced herself.

The man immediately scowled and began to protest.

“We are not taking over your crime scene,” she reassured him. “We merely have a vested interest and would like to be updated with any progress.”

“Just get the info, none of the work?”

She nodded. “I was instructed to look around while I am here, but if you need further help, I can get in contact with headquarters. I'm sure our forensic expert would be happy to help.”

“Just don’t compromise the crime scene,” the inspector grunted, realising he wouldn’t have any luck keeping her out.

Agent McLeod took out her latex gloves with a printed lace pattern and pulled them on. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” She then flounced off with a grin, descending the stairs behind the counter. Once out of sight of the lead investigator, she let her smile fade.

“You are sure that there won’t be any issues when he checks with his superiors?”

“Absolutely,” her handler in Q branch replied in her earpiece. “MI5 is actually working with us on this. They’re interested as well.”

“But they didn’t send an agent of their own?” she asked as she took pictures of the large locking mechanism. She was surprised the bank didn’t have a more modern, digital lock.

“They have allowed us to take the lead since it affects us more. And if Six gets involved officially, more rumors will spread. We’d prefer if more nonsense doesn’t crop up again in the _Mail_.”

“Very true. I won’t be much longer here. I don’t know what I’m looking for after all.”

“Of course. Just follow your instincts, Zoey. I’ll see you when you return.”

***

Two weeks of Q trying to contact Samir discretely, Zoey getting updates from Scotland Yard, and Bond tanning on the beaches of Greece went by before any headway was made on the group behind the robbery. But once the group was found, everything moved fast.

Q was forced to send a risky, emergency message out to the undercover agents at risk. Those who had not responded to previous messages were now approached by agents like Bond, posing as a distant friend and passing a physical note of warning.

However, the bulk of this mission would have to be handled by Q branch. The group that robbed the bank was small; only four individuals had been identified, but they had an online following. They had a simple wordpress blog set up and a chatroom calling for an “unveiling” of the government. They were saying that in an age of increased government surveillance, the people should be watching the government in return.

It might have remained a simple revolutionary blog, posting opinions and yelling into the void, if another small group hadn’t joined with them. This group was a group of hackers. They boasted of degrees from top universities, and instantly Q was disappointed in them. The first rule of hacking was to never mention personal details.

Still, it did make Q feel better about his firewalls. They hadn’t hacked their way into the MI6 network to determine where the money was. They’d watched the banks instead.

One member of the group worked part-time at Myrddisle Bank and had been able to look at the internal records to see money transfers. It was easy to spot a deposit of money from the government and immediate direct deposits into personal accounts. From there, it seemed they had tried to track down the recipients digitally but had more luck when they did on-the-ground work.

Q branch could alter nearly every digital record, but they could not add people into every yearbook in print and if one looked close enough, discrepancies could be found.

Although the hackers had not determined the true identities of the agents, a correct guess had been made to connect them to MI6, and they had put phase two of their plan into action. So while Scotland Yard prosecuted the ones who had been in the bank for robbery and vandalism, Q tasked a group to trace the hackers in the digital world

They were found surprisingly fast. Q called back the agents and told his staff to go home. R volunteered to accompany the police when they collected the hackers to pick up their equipment. Even Q shut his laptop and went home.

 

The night was warm and clear so Q took the opportunity to take a late night stroll in the local park. Under the crescent moon, he could feel his muscles relax, the tension fade away.

Only then, he felt his phone vibrate. He would have ignored it if it wasn’t morse code for SOS. Well, shit. He pulled up the alert. It came from R. He glared up at the night sky, daring it to tell him it was not the bad news he feared.


	2. Below my Paygrade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a troublesome one.

R slowly regained consciousness, waking up from a hazy dream about peach-flavored apple pie. A tingling sensation in her face lead her to believe she had hurt herself. She tried to remember how that might have happened. 

She had left work, joining some officers to arrest the hackers who had infiltrated the bank and collect their tech. Q wanted her to accompany Scotland Yard so that nothing was missed. 

They had not been there long, the hackers packed in the truck and the white gloves snapped on, when a soft hiss had been heard and a colourless gas had filled the room. She remembered sinking to the floor, but nothing further. Maybe she had fallen harder than she thought. 

Suddenly she was slapped on the left cheek. Her eyes flew open in shock. That would also explain the pain.

She seemed to be in a concrete warehouse unit. A typical bad guy hideout like on every cop drama ever. She wasn’t tied, so that was a good sign, but the three men staring at her set shivers up her spine. 

“Ah good. Now you’re awake.” One of the two men in dress shirts stepped forward as he spoke, motioning for the more burly man to back away from her. 

“What do you want?” R demanded, trying to project an image of calm she was not feeling. Agents were trained for this; she was not. She remembered the distress beacon embedded in her ankle. She slowly brought her legs closer together and tapped her ankles together three times.

“We have a little job for you,” the man replied. He pointed with his cigarette to the laptop on the table in front of her. “We know you are better than the hackers we hired before – after all, you were arresting them – so this shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

They didn’t know she was with MI6. While it did mean that her identity had not been compromised, it also meant they had no reason to keep her alive for ransom. Her eyes darted around the room. It was worrying that the chair she was on was secured to the floor. Any attempt to use the chair as a weapon would be fruitless.

As the man spoke about how the previous hackers had made progress but were not good enough, R continued looking around. She didn’t see much else that could help her situation. The thin macbook in front of her would do no damage. The table it rested on was secured as well. 

Her heart rate picked up. This was not looking good. 

“Basically, we need you to erase this man’s identity.”

R looked at the computer screen. It was open to a LinkedIn profile of a man who appeared to be the CEO of a well known-company. “Why? Why do you want his identity erased?” Maybe the panic was scrambling her brains, but it didn’t make sense. She hadn’t really been listening to the man’s monologue, but even so.

“It is not your place to question your betters!” He slapped her across the face again.

R really hoped her distress signal had gotten through and someone was on their way. Otherwise, no one would notice her absence until tomorrow. 

“Rob, calm down.” Finally the second man spoke up. “It’s not an unreasonable question to ask.” He now stepped forward to stand beside Rob. “It all started in university. We became rivals early on.”

Assuming her distress signal had been transmitted through the concrete walls and someone at headquarters had noticed, maybe her best chance of getting out alive was just stalling. Certainly the second man was now monologuing as good as any B movie villain.

However, since she wasn’t paying attention, her mind was left to extrapolate. What if MI6 didn’t find her? She was on her own. Already she knew she couldn’t use anything in the room as a weapon. She wasn’t good at hand to hand combat either.

What would happen if she did hack for them? If, when, MI6 ever found out, there would be consequences. As far as she knew, this man had done nothing to deserve this. And even if he did, this would fall under MI5’s jurisdiction. She wondered if it would be up to MI5 to punish her for hacking this man’s digital identity.

Although, perhaps this was all pointless because they might not leave her alive when she had finished. The two men who had done the talking didn’t seem likely to kill her, but they could order the third man to do so. They probably didn’t know what it was like to kill and wouldn’t think twice about it. One word, one shot, and she would be gone.

She needed to get out. Right. Now. 

R glanced at the door and stood. Her mother had told her once that bullies would back down if you stood up to them. Maybe a similar method would work here. “No,” she said firmly. “I will not.” She started marching toward the door. 

To her amazement, neither Rob nor his friend moved. They were quite surprised. The third man, however, was not so easily tricked. 

R cried out in pain as the man kicked the side of her knee and sent her crashing to the ground. 

This spurred the others into action, and they hauled her back to the chair. In a last ditch fight, she kicked and clawed. She managed to ram her knee into Rob’s crotch, but she got punched in the nose for her effort. Her own shock at feeling the cartilage snap made her stop, and they forced her into the chair. This time, the burly man took control. He used his own belt to secure her to the chair and the other men’s belts to further restrain her. Going one step more, he pulled handcuffs from his pocket and clamped them around her wrists. They were lighter and probably not the quality police forces used, but they did the trick. She could still reach to type on the keyboard, but try as she might, she didn’t have the reach to loosen the restraints. 

“I will give you one last time to accept our offer on your own terms,” Rob said as she was being secured. “Will you wipe his identity for us?”

R lifted her chin high and clenched her fists in defiance. “No.” If she was going to die terrified, she would die terrified on her own terms, sticking by her own morals. 

The men laid out their final instructions, just in case she changed her mind, and left her alone with the large man. He said nothing, only walked to the edge of the room and picked up a large can. “They did not think this would be needed,” he said, voice clipped. “It is a good thing I came prepared anyway.”

She watched him pour the petrol in an increasing spiral around the room. She noticed that it was not a steady stream; it splashed a bit. Maybe that would slow down the advance of fire when he did light it. Either way, it didn’t look good for her.

He lit a cheap lighter and dropped it on the petrol. “You have until the flames reach you. If you start working, the sprinklers can be turned on remotely. If you do not cooperate, your chair is very flammable.” And with that sentence, he left the room. The slamming of the door echoing loudly as she was left alone.

Logically, she knew it hadn’t been long since she sent the distress signal through her tracker. Assuming the signal made it to headquarters, they still had to identify an agent who was free, contact them, and narrow down her location. London was a big city and so wherever she was, it would take time for them to get to her. 

And what could she do in the meantime? She wasn’t going to hack this for them. Did they plan on waiting here and watching her from whatever cameras they had set up? She shivered. She hoped not. Already being bound to the chair, on display for these men, was sending her mind into spirals of dark what-if scenarios that she was desperately trying to block out. 

The threat of fire was only adding another nightmare scenario for her brain to play with and twist. She had never wanted to know what is was like to die a martyr, but now she might find out. Even if her name was never known to the outside world. All they would find were her charred remains in front of a computer.  _ She died as she lived _ , she could imagine her friends saying. All her life spent in front of a computer, fighting for good. And now she would die having refused to lay a finger on the keyboard. 


	3. Tandem

With a wave of his hand, Q’s personal bodyguard for the night hurried to his side. “R has been taken; we’re going in.”

Casper nodded and settled into a light jog to keep up with the Quartermaster’s fast walk.

It was only Q’s need to hold his phone to his ear that prevented him from breaking into a run. When they reached his home, he went straight for the garage. From the table, he grabbed a spare bluetooth and helmet before jumping on his motorbike. His palm print registered on the handlebars, and the bike revved to life.

His bodyguard stood staring at the sight before him. In skinny jeans, a t-shirt, a patterned scarf, and an Assassin’s Creed jacket, not to mention the hand-painted helmet, Q did not look like the sort who had ever ridden a bike before. He had been looking forward to an easy night of guarding the man’s modest home, but evidently that was not his fate.

“What are you waiting for? Get on the back.”

Having no other choice, the agent grabbed a helmet, silver with green stripes, and wrapped his arms loosely around the Quartermaster’s waist. His grip tightened as they sped away across London. Casper couldn’t make out the words over the wind, but he could hear Q talking with his branch, no doubt directing the recovery efforts so that he didn’t have to waste time getting caught up when they arrived.

Except the Quartermaster then executed a dangerous U-turn that would have put the double-ohs to shame, and turned east. If he hadn’t thought the man was crazy before, he knew it for sure now.

“What are you doing?” Casper yelled.

Q reached up, now steering through the cars with only one hand, and tapped one of the chemical chains painted on his helmet. “No need to shout.” His voice came from a speaker inside Casper’s helmet. “Just tap above your ear to activate the mic.”

Casper had no intention of relaxing his hold on the man in front of him.

“We know where R is being held and we are the closest. I’m not going to wait any longer than I have to.”

Casper wanted to say more, remind Q he was not field-trained, tell him to let others take the lead, but he waited until the harrowing ride was over before immediately spewing out his protests. The stopped two blocks away from the location of R’s tracker to approach on foot.

“Firstly, I _am_ field-trained,” Q replied. “And secondly, I wouldn’t be a very good Quartermaster if I didn’t have at least three of my gadgets on me at all times.” And indeed, he pulled a long range dart gun off the frame of the motorbike and now offered a second to Casper.

The agent was forced to admit that the boffin was clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand; he didn’t hold it like a man whose only experience was first person shooter games in the arcade.

As they continued to walk down the alleyways, Q filled Casper in on the details that they knew. “The police who were searching the house with R have been declared dead so they aren’t afraid of using lethal force. No sign of struggle, though, so beware of airborne weapons. R was only able to send a distress signal once, so we must assume at least her feet are tied.”

Casper wasn't quite sure how to interpret that, but he pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and walked beside his superior.

They reached the final street and Q pulled up short. Reaching into his pocket, he unfolded a small mirror that he then lifted and used to peer around the corner. He nodded to say it was all clear and slipped it back in his pocket. They turned the corner and entered the warehouse, courtesy of some lock-picking skills from a minion at headquarters.

Stealthily, they stole down the hallway, passing a few different doors to empty large storage rooms. Listening to the minion in his ear, Q kept walking and led them up to the top floor, where there was a guard.

The man was dressed in business casual, leaning back in his chair, and watching something on his phone with one earbud in, another clue that this was not a professional group.

Q and Casper exchanged raised eyebrows before the former shot a dart into the man’s neck. The guard barely had time to register surprise before losing his balance and toppling backwards. Q winced as the phone shattered on the concrete. Although, he thought as he glanced down while they walked past, it served him right for not having a case on an iphone.

The door he had been in front of was the one they wanted. Even if the GPS hadn’t told them, the faint light coming from under the door indicated that something was going on inside.

At Q’s nod, Casper kicked open the door, and they both ducked in, weapons raised. Thankfully, there was no one firing at them; unfortunately, the fire they were met with was far worse. Smoke obscured most of his vision, but he could still make out silhouettes. On the floor, a spiral of flames was following a path of petrol, leading in toward a pallet of wood and a chair, to which R was bound.

The Quartermaster glanced around to make sure no one was hiding in the smoke—Casper taking up watch in the doorway—before leaping over the knee-level flames to reach his second-in-command.

She looked up at him, and he immediately saw her nose had been broken, blood already caking on her face. Her eyes took a moment to focus on him, disoriented from the smoke, but then she smiled. She opened her mouth to speak, but Q stopped her before she could.

“No, don't. It will hurt. Let me get you of of these.” He traded his gun for a knife and sawed the common belt that had been securing her chest and ankles to the chair. Taking a glance at the computer in front of her, he deduced why her arms had been left relatively free. “I’m sorry I can’t get the cuffs off right away. But let’s get you out of here.” She was dehydrated and her knee was swollen, but she still had enough strength to lean on Q as they made their way away from the fire. “Casper, go check for anyone else; they have to be monitoring her somehow.”

He was reluctant to leave, but an order was an order and it did make sense.

When he was gone, R croaked out Q’s name to get his attention. Using her eyes to communicate, she glanced upwards and then at Q’s neck. It took him a second, but he realised she was looking at his scarf.

“Oh, of course. Let's get you sat down first. I don't want you to topple over.” She nodded and they slowly made their way out of the room. Q used his foot to shove the still unconscious guard to the side and reclaimed the chair for R.

She didn't usually wear a hijab, citing lack of strict religious observance and the basic hazards of anything hanging loose while working with volatile chemicals. But it made sense to Q that sometimes the simple comforts of tradition and familiarity could go a long way to making you feel safer.

Q helped her wrap his scarf around her head, and he thought he could see a little bit of the tension fade from her shoulders. “You good? We ought to bring you into medical.”

She nodded and used Q to pull herself to her feet. Slowly but surely they walked towards the stairs. They were only a couple feet away when the stairwell door flew open.

Q raised his weapon but almost immediately lowered it again. “Bond?” he said incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“Rumour had it that you were on a rescue mission, and I can never turn down saving a damsel in distress.” The agent smiled and tucked his gun away as well. “Although it looks like the saving has already been done.”

“I take offense to you calling my second a damsel in distress, but on this occasion, if R has no objections, it might be easier for you to carry her down the stairs rather than me.”

Although she trusted her boss more, R wisely agreed to being carried by 007 as they followed Q down the stairs.

Casper met them outside and reported that the leader was missing, but he had radioed in for help taking custody of the one he had apprehended. Thankfully, Bond had come in his car and R was able to ride back with him rather than having to risk the motorbike.

 

It was a long night, Q thought as he sat in his office, a dim desk lamp his only light. It was far from the relaxing evening it had started as, but he was pleased that R would be alright.

Q shook his head. It seemed ridiculous that such a twisted mindset could be found in the very people they worked everyday to protect. Normally, he would assign someone to investigate their company, but this time he only forwarded the intel off to his counterpart in MI5 and went to sit with R. She was the one who really needed him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks to Opal and Ven and everyone else in the chat who helped me with this story.


End file.
